Mootpoint

Hold Me Thrill Me Kiss Me Kill really is quite a good song. It really is, up there with Elevation (Tomb Raider Mix) for U2 rocking out. In fact, a compilation of U2’s “Songs To Rock Out To” would be quite a good thing to have. Hmm.

In other news, the complete meltdown stress-out period of the last couple of weeks is now over, and normal transmission will resume presently. Well, kind of normal, except everything’s gone and changed, and I find myself arriving at the end of February with considerably fewer commitments than originally planned. Careless, really – “And now I fear that I won’t be able to make it all better again” turned out to be quite the true statement, which is more than a bit of a bugger and the cause of the vast majority of stress and unhappiness over the past while.

In the end, the decision to remain in the MBA programme, and Christchurch even, was a hard one. Although pretty much all the advice offered by friends and family was in support of moving out of my “doing a postgraduate degree at the University of Canterbury” comfort zone (even my Mum was offering me money to leave the city, if not the country), I found that my reasons for wanting to do an MBA were real and good and sufficient to keep me here for another year, regardless of everything else that was swirling through my head at the time. And the most important thing I was reminded of throughout the long, painful, drawn-out decision making process is that damn I (we, by association) have some very fine and caring friends. I may not have taken your advice, but I listened to it, seriously considered it, and valued it immensely. Thanks to all who patiently received my sleep deprived phone calls last Wednesday.

But the MBA won out, and the programme is cool, and the courses seem good so far, although I note that the readings keep piling up, and the assessment all seems to be due in about a week… ah well, nothing new there. The people in the programme are a good bunch from a wide variety of backgrounds and promise to keep the year interesting at the very least. The lecturers all love the subjects they’re teaching, it shows, and makes the lectures that much more fun and engaging – I’m actually fully enjoying all six of the first term courses, and am genuinely looking forward to doing the readings and assessment. Seriously.

(This statement, undoubtedly, will undergo review in a few weeks.)

One interesting aspect of a couple of the courses is that journal keeping is a part of the assessment and learning process – just like blogging, only without the assessment. And in my case the learning. Oh, and I’ll have to complete them at a slightly higher rate than I do blogs. Which could be tricky.

There’s more, both MBA and non, but I want to finish a reading about stress management interventions in the New Zealand workplace. Scintillating, let me tell you.

Wednesday produced an absolutely picture perfect Christchurch late-summer evening – warm and still, with a slow setting sun revealing the stars one by one after a hot nor’west day that had left only a patchy layer of cloud in the sky. After dinner I went for a big long walk through the Upper Riccarton environs. Strolling through suburbia, I passed old flats and friends’ houses from school days and indulged myself by wallowing in lost youth. The footpaths have changed, but everything is otherwise largely still the same, barring the encroachment of student cars on previously well-loved lawns, and the encroachment of retirement homes on previously well-loved student flats. I discovered that the smell of walnut trees instantly evokes my youth, part of which was spent building huts amongst their branches on our Yaldhurst orchard, and I realised that I should spend more time going for lazy walks around Christchurch streets. It’s really quite relaxing and helps me stop rushing, take a breath, and actually *think* rather than spending life in a purely reactionary state.

Since getting home from Vanuatu, life has been hectic – too fast, too much on, too many things not done that should have been, too many promises made that were never followed through on. And now I fear that I won’t be able to make it all better again.